


tied up to this feeling

by 1000_directions



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes in Panties, Coming In Pants, Light Bondage, M/M, Protective Clint Barton, boys in lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 17:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: There’s no teasing when they’re like this. Whatever Bucky asks for, he can have, immediately, no questions, no hesitation. That’s the whole point. Bucky’s at Clint’s mercy, and Clint is going to give him everything, everything, everything he wants.





	tied up to this feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).



> thank you to cb for reading this and screaming about it and fixing it and letting me yell bucky-in-panties headcanons at you all week 💜
> 
> created for the mandatory fun day prompt 'boys in lingerie'

Clint touches Bucky gently.

He fits his hands to Bucky’s left upper arm, sculpted to match his right side perfectly. He maps out Bucky’s exquisite musculature with palms that are slightly sweaty, but Bucky doesn’t seem to notice, doesn’t make any move at all to stop him, and Clint explores his arm carefully, reverently. Bucky is strong and solid, muscled and scarred. He was built to endure immeasurable burdens, and he was pushed right to that limit and beyond for so much of his life that it makes Clint feel sick if he thinks about it for too long.

But here, in their bed, Bucky is safe. Under Clint’s careful hands, he can be soft and small. Clint touches Bucky gently, and Bucky closes his eyes and sighs and lets him.

“Do you like this one, babe?” Clint asks, dragging a silk scarf over Bucky’s hand. “It’s the blue one.” Bucky’s metal fingers twitch under the delicate fabric, and then he nods his head slightly without opening his eyes.

Clint runs his thumb along Bucky’s metal wrist, tracing the smooth plane of the plate, feeling the cool metal warm to his touch. He lifts Bucky’s wrist with both hands and raises it to his face, touching his lips tenderly to the seam where Bucky’s hand meets his arm. Bucky exhales shakily, and Clint presses another kiss on top of the first. Then, he loops the scarf around Bucky’s wrist and ties a loose knot. He imagines that he is binding the kiss to Bucky’s arm, keeping a souvenir of his love securely in place against Bucky’s metal.

“Love you,” Clint whispers, his lips brushing against the silk.

Bucky’s fingers pet lazily at Clint’s face for a moment before going still and lax. His arm becomes limp in Clint’s grasp as Clint begins to wind the scarf around his forearm, covering up the metal. When he gets to Bucky’s elbow, he ties another knot, this time with a pale pink scarf. He wraps Bucky’s arm in soft, sensual fabrics, and he punctuates his knots with brief kisses.

“There you go,” Clint says, tying off the final loops. “Can you put your hands above your head for me, babe?”

Bucky stretches out, his arms obediently moving upwards. Clint winds a scarf through a slat in their headboard and tucks the loose ends inside the scarves already tied to Bucky’s wrists. It’s a loose bond, symbolic more than anything. Bucky can break out of it at any point if he wants to just by lowering his arms. There’s nothing holding him in place except his own desire to be held.

“You look beautiful,” Clint murmurs, because he can’t help himself.

Bucky blinks his eyes open and smiles, a little shy, a little unfocused, and Clint’s heart seizes from how much he fucking loves this man, how much he still can’t believe that he gets to be the one to take care of him and make him feel safe this way.

But it’s true. Bucky looks _beautiful_. The silk covers his metal, makes him soft where he is normally hard, makes him appear delicate and gentle. His torso is bare, and all of the muscles of his arms and chest are straining as he holds himself still, stretched out and waiting for Clint. His whole body is an invitation.

Bucky likes this kind of attention. He revels in it. And as Clint’s gaze dips lower, he sees the way Bucky’s cock twitches in his pretty lace panties. He’s already half-hard, his dick straining against the delicate fabric that only barely contains him. Clint’s so hungry for his beautiful body. He’s fucking starving.

And Bucky just looks at him, open and trusting, his whole body on display for Clint to enjoy and to use and to take care of. Clint knows what that means. He _knows_ it. No one gave Bucky a single goddamn choice for seventy years of his life, and being in control is important to him. So it means more than Clint can even wrap his stupid head around that Bucky willingly gives that control over to Clint like this. It’s fucking stupid that anyone should ever love him so much. He shouldn’t have this much power, not over someone as good as Bucky Barnes.

But Bucky trusts him, so Clint is going to be careful. He’s going to honor this vulnerability like the precious gift that it is. He’s going to be so worthy of this trust.

“Beautiful,” Clint repeats, and Bucky beams up at him. Christ, he’s so lovely when he gets like this.

Clint gets off on being pushed around a little. He likes being teased and denied, likes being toyed with and overstimulated until he’s screaming for release. He keeps a safeword tucked behind his teeth like a cyanide pill, for emergencies only. Because he _likes_ being pushed to the limit. He likes begging and crying. He likes being told how and when and _if_ he can come. He likes being at Bucky’s mercy, and he knows Bucky will always, always take good care of him.

Bucky likes being taken care of, too, but...it’s different.

“What do you want from me?” Clint asks softly. He cups Bucky’s face in one hand, thumbing lightly over his sharp cheekbone. Bucky closes his eyes and sighs, settling easily into Clint’s generous attention. “What can I do for you, baby?”

“Kiss me,” Bucky murmurs, and Clint swallows hard. It took so much for them to get to a point where Bucky felt like he could ask for what he wanted, and now, when he does it so easily, so naturally, it’s a little overwhelming, even all these years later.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” Clint asks, settling down onto his side next to Bucky, bringing himself closer so that he’s ready to do whatever Bucky wants. There’s no teasing when they’re like this. Whatever Bucky asks for, he can have, immediately, no questions, no hesitation. That’s the whole _point_. Bucky’s at Clint’s mercy, and Clint is going to give him everything, everything, everything he wants.

“Kiss my neck,” Bucky says, blinking his eyes back open. “Clint, kiss my neck and my chest and then just...keep going.”

“Of course,” Clint says, and he leans over and nuzzles into the warm crook of Bucky’s neck, nosing at the strong muscles and pressing a soft kiss to his pulse point. “You smell so nice, baby. Is this what you want?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says with a sigh, and Clint feels some of the tension drain from him, feels the gradual process of him relaxing beneath Clint’s attentive mouth. “Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me,” Clint whispers to Bucky’s jaw, working over the stubble with his tender lips and relishing the roughness of him. “This is what I’m here for. Do you want my hands, too, or just my mouth?”

“Your hands,” Bucky breathes. “Hold me down while you kiss me.”

“Of course,” Clint murmurs. “Anything you want.” Anything for him, fucking _anything_ he wants. People treated him so bad for so long, and Clint knows there’s nothing in this world he can do that’s ever going to make up for it. But he’s going to do this anyway. He’s going to be so, so fucking gentle and receptive to this good man. He’s going to spend the rest of his life letting him make choices and then giving him what he chooses. It’s not enough, but he’ll do it anyway.

Clint fits his hands to Bucky’s left shoulder, palms cupping metal and thumbs digging skillfully into the knots he develops in the supporting muscles. Bucky groans in relief as his trigger points release, and Clint kisses his sternum, wet and open mouthed, flicking his tongue out to stroke his chest hair and then sucking gently at his skin.

Bucky’s heartbeat is solid beneath Clint’s cheek. It’s his anchor, a permanence he feels even when he can’t hear. Bucky’s heart is powerful and stubborn and perfect, a beacon that always calls Clint home.

He creeps lower down Bucky’s body, his palms flat to Bucky’s muscled torso, and he feels the way Bucky’s chest rises and falls each time he sucks in a breath. He mouths lower down his skin, following the trail of coarse hair to where it disappears beneath Bucky’s lacy waistband. There’s a wet patch over his eager cockhead, where he’s leaked and made the purple lace dark. Clint pauses there, just breathing his hot breath over Bucky without touching him, and Bucky whines softly, his cock twitching in his lace panties.

“What do you want?” Clint asks, and Bucky mewls beneath him, rubbing his left foot along his right ankle.

It’s not always about sex for Bucky, is the thing. It started out pretty innocuous, actually. Bucky was just collecting soft things that made him feel like a person instead of a soldier, and soon enough, he had a drawer full of faded hoodies and sleep-pants and fluffy socks. And it was months before the first pair of panties had turned up in there, a pair of boyshorts, black and discreet but delicate, flimsy, lovely. It was ages before he wanted anything that was pastel.

It’s been a journey, the two of them figuring out together what Bucky likes and what he gets out of it. Sometimes, he just wants to pull on his wooly pink knee socks and curl up beside Clint on the couch, and they watch TV with Clint’s hand stroking possessively over Bucky’s strong calves, and then that’s all of it, that’s where it stops. And sometimes, Bucky wants to dress up and have Clint tie him down and suck him off through his thin silk panties until he ruins them.

A lot of the time, it’s something in between. So Clint asks. He always asks, and he gives Bucky what he wants. Exactly what he wants, and only what he wants.

“Lick me?” Bucky asks with a small voice, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Some things are still easier to ask for than others. “Can you get me wet?”

“Of course,” Clint says, and he runs his hands soothingly up and down Bucky’s sides, making him shiver deliciously. “I would love to do that for you, baby.”

Bucky nods, and he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s so beautiful, and so trusting, and Clint is going to give him what he needs.

It’s unreal how good he looks like this. Clint never knew this was a thing for him, never had an inkling, and maybe it wouldn’t be if it was anyone else. Maybe it’s just a Bucky thing for him. There’s just something about Bucky, who is so strong and fierce and powerful, lying at Clint’s mercy with his dick barely contained in a set of flimsy lace panties. His body is so muscled, dusted with body hair and sheening with sweat, and Clint doesn’t know why it’s so hot to see that strip of purple lace low on his hips, but it’s fucking hot. Bucky is so beautiful, he’s strong and soft and completely himself and completely Clint’s, and it’s a lot. Christ, it’s a lot.

Bucky asked for Clint’s mouth, so Clint gives it to him. He licks at the wet patch over Bucky’s cockhead, getting him wetter, sucking his precome from the delicate fabric. The lace is scratchy against Clint’s tongue at first, but he’s persistent, attentive. He feels Bucky’s dick twitching under his mouth as Clint obediently sucks at the lace, softening it with his spit.

“Is this good?” Clint asks. He knows it is, he’s sure it is, but he’s never going to stop asking.

“Yeah,” Bucky says hoarsely, and Clint pulls back enough to look up at him, to see his face.

His eyes are still closed at first, his bottom lip chewed and abused. Bucky swipes his tongue over his lip and then he opens his eyes, and Clint sees the moment his face changes. The way he looks at Clint, the moment he _sees_ him and smiles, all the overwhelming inexplicable love that beams out of his eyes, the way he softens and relaxes. It’s crazy to be loved so much. He knows he’d do anything for this man, and he thinks Bucky knows that, too. He’ll spend his life making sure of it.

“Do you want to come?” Clint asks, because he doesn’t always. But Bucky nods.

“Yeah,” he says. “Make me come. Hold me down and lick me through them until I come.”

“Of course,” Clint murmurs, and he bows his head to kiss the little satin bow in the middle of the waistband. He fits his hands to Bucky’s hips, feeling the scratchy lace beneath his palms, and then he scoots lower, sliding in between Bucky’s splayed legs. The leg-bands bisect his balls, partially covered with lace and partially bare skin where Bucky is too big to be contained, and Clint licks over him with broad strokes, tasting the musk and the heat of him as he traces the line of lace.

Bucky’s whimpering, and his hips push up against Clint’s grip. He redirects his focus, laving over the thick length of his cock, licking wetly from his lace-covered base up to the exposed tip that peeks out over the waistband. He’s fully hard now, red and hot and throbbing beneath Clint’s mouth, and Clint sucks at him greedily, paying his generous attention to every eager inch. He loves Bucky like this, likes getting him wet and desperate, likes getting him so hot that he ruins his panties.

He likes it because Bucky likes it.

“You can come for me,” Clint whispers, lips raw and oversensitive from the lace. “Any time you want, you can come.”

Bucky whines, and his hips push greedily towards Clint. He works his clothed cock against Clint’s lips, and Clint holds still, loosens his grip on his hips, and lets Bucky get himself off.

It’s so fucking beautiful when Bucky gets what he wants.

Bucky’s panting now, hiccuping out his little noises as he moans and rubs off against Clint’s abused face, and Clint lets his lips part, exposes his wet tongue for Bucky’s use, and it’s barely any time at all before he feels Bucky’s thighs tense abruptly around him, and he swipes his tongue weakly at Bucky’s cockhead as he begins to come. He swallows what he can, and he licks the rest back into the damp lace, marking it. He knows Bucky usually likes that. And if he doesn’t, Clint will suck it back out again.

Clint licks, and he keeps licking, even after Bucky comes, even when he shudders and shivers beneath Clint’s mouth. Bucky asked him to lick, and Clint will keep licking with his debauched tongue until Bucky asks him to stop.

It’s another minute before Clint feels Bucky’s hands cradling his head, which means he shrugged out of his bindings. It’s okay. He’s allowed to do that. It’s designed for him to do that.

“That was so nice,” Bucky says, just a hint of a slur to his words. “Clint, you felt so nice.”

“That’s what you deserve,” Clint says. His swollen tongue feels huge in his mouth, and he swallows carefully. “I always want you to feel nice.”

“C’mere and kiss me,” Bucky says, and Clint slithers back up Bucky’s body.

“I love you,” Clint murmurs, and he kisses Bucky’s brilliant answering smile.

“Love you, too,” Bucky says a moment later, after he’s kissed Clint thoroughly, carefully licking into his mouth.

“Do you want to get cleaned up?” Clint asks. “I can take your panties off of you, and we can take a nice shower or a bath, get you all clean?”

“In a bit,” Bucky says. “Not yet. Do you want to come?”

“Not yet,” Clint answers honestly. He gets off on this too, of course. He gets so hot from Bucky being like this, but he wants to carry that feeling around a bit longer before he acts on it.

“Then kiss me some more,” Bucky murmurs, wrapping his strong arms around Clint, and Clint gives him what he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/186266059559/title-tied-up-to-this-feeling-link-ao3-pairing)


End file.
